MY THANKS TO “LIKERS”

thanks

Hello, Fellow Bloggers:  Time for me to give special thanks and recognition to some bloggers who are also “likers.”  Don’t we all love folks who take time to do a like on our posts!  So to the following folks who liked my “Casseroles”  I give you thanks.  This is a great list to find active new bloggers. I met some new folks for the first time.  I seem to have left out one person.  I believe I left out one person but I can’t find who.  I hope to catch up with you, whoever you are.

beholding him ministries

natalierose

roach59

dawnlizjones

This N That with Me

judyjourneys

Titiana

gunroswell

Yinglan

Robert

Faye

robertokaji

lifelipshadowandtrend

ladieswholunch

cooking without limits

luckyjc007

discovermarche

 

 

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GIVING

gift-small

If for love you are giving, then with peace you will be living.

If for any other reason, you’ve missed the spirit of the season.

 

Why do we give gifts at Christmas time?

  •  It’s a trade-off; they give to us so we have to give back.
  • We have done it so long, they will think we are broke if we don’t.
  • To outdo the other fellow.
  • It the custom; it’s expected of me.
  • It will look like I don’t love them if I don’t give a present.
  • It’s my duty to my employees; it’s my duty to my employer.
  • I want to go to the party so I have to take something
  • As this list shows, we so often give  “to be seen of men.”  It’s our duty.

My challenge:  Can I give something to the needy and keep it a secret?  Or is it likely that I will say something like this:  “I’m not giving many presents this year because I’m sending my Christmas money to the food bank.”  Oh, dear, sometimes I just can’t help myself!

Matthew 6:2  ….when you give to the needy, do not announce it with trumpets…to be honored by men…. 3 But when you give to the needy, (do it in secret) …then your Father will reward you.

 

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CASSEROLES FOR THE COMMUNITY

casseroles

Wonder if I dread holiday cooking?  Those of you who know Sammy and me will get a kick out of this. I made casseroles one night over holiday and planned to cook them next morning before the family arrived.

  Therefore, this dream.

We were in my home town of about 2500 people and I was supposed to have casseroles cooked for the community at 12:00 at the courthouse. I had lost Sammy. When I found him, he was entertaining a group of people, one of whom said, “You sure have a nice husband.” I agreed but said I needed him to take me to the courthouse quickly. He nicely got up and started down the street with me, strolling along like the Englishman he is, greeting everyone and passing the time of day. I’m nearly dragging him along. After walking several blocks with my grouchiness and his cheerfulness we finally found the van parked in someone’s garage. I hop in and shut the door quickly; he notices a street sign that is wobbly so he asks folks nearby if they have a screwdriver and tells them he can fix the sign. Someone offers a screwdriver and he tightens the sign before getting in the van. I’m steaming and the conversation is rather unbecoming of me. We do get to the courthouse in time, and someone else has put the casseroles in the oven.

All’s well that ends well. I’ll keep Sammy.

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AH, SWEET WONDER

galaxy

When I consider your heavens, the work of your fingers
The moon, and the stars which you have set in place,

What is man that you are mindful of him,

The son of man that you care for him… Psalm 8:4

This panoply give rise to the mindset with which I enter the Christmas season.  Who am I that you would do this whole “Christian” thing?  Come as a baby, suffer and die as a man, give hope of life everlasting – all for man.  All for me!

panoply  (The Daily Post prompt by Krista)

 

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SECRET SANTA

snowy-footprints

“Shhh,” I whispered as I shushed the kids reminding them that their shoes were making a shuffling noise as we silently made our way up the un-shoveled walk to a neighbor’s house.  Knowing their Christmas would be frugal, we has ordered a shipment of toys and clothes to deliver on this snowy night.

Shushing them again, we turned and very quietly slipped away back over to our house feeling sure the recipients would never know who had visited during the night.

Next morning the door bell rang.  “Thank you for our Christmas goodies,” sang out happy voices.  “We wouldn’t have known where they came from but we could see your shoe tracks in the snowy slush.””Shhh,” I whispered as I shushed the kids reminding them that their shoes were making a shuffling noise as we silently made our way up the un-shoveled walk to a neighbor’s house.  Knowing their Christmas would be frugal, we has ordered a shipment of toys and clothes to deliver on this snowy night.

Prompt  sh words by Linda Hill.SoSC

 

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REMEMBERING DADDY

brown-bootsNovember 28, 1913  – The day my daddy (Pete) was born.  Had he lived he would be 103; as it was he lived to 63.  He died from a heart attack, unexpected by those around him.  After he was gone, we saw the signs.  He likely knew it would be soon. We did not know.  He wasn’t much of a talker. He spent his last day picking out carpet to put in their new home.  The one he never lived in.

As a farmer he was much like most of his peers.  Arranging with the corner grocery store and the town bank to buy on credit.  Buying pigs and feeding them hoping for a good sow with big litters.  How much feed will be needed to last until the cows can be turned into the fields. Tilling the soil, fertilizing, planting.  Waiting for rain?  Will it come in time?  It did come soon enough but, alas, much too much water so little seedlings were washed over by the soil.  Plant again.  And again.  And sometimes, again.  In all of it, he never uttered a vulgar word, kicked the dog nor vented anger.

And he never worked on a Sunday beyond what was required to take care of the animals. Even when the bunkhouse was full of migrant workers.  Even if it looked like rain would come in and ruin the crop.  Now some of my readers might think this was going too far! To that I just say he lived what he believed regarding that issue.  And in the long run, he made more money than he used up.

But lest I make him sound like milk toast, I confess he could sound rather harsh yelling at a stubborn calf or a cow that kicked over the milk bucket. And he had a dead eye when it came to shooting a rattle snake or feeding cats directly from the cow’s teat!   I don’t know how he did it, but he raised kids who would much rather be obedient than take a chance on …  What? I do not know.

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HOMELY VS NOT PRETTY

Being “not pretty” is not the same thing as being homely.  I have always seen myself as not pretty but I never tagged myself with homely.  I have a great empathy for homely people.  I’m not sure when peer pressure starts against homely children but it is very evident before the end of primary grades.  You will seldom, if ever, find one in the social cliques even by third grade.  I question why I say that, because my making that judgement indicates that I, myself, made a radical conclusion based on the cultures’ standard of beautiful and ugly.  That’s not just!

I have jokingly said, “I want to lose weight before I get to Heaven.  I don’t want to spend eternity being overweight!”  But, alas, if I go to Heaven successfully svelte, I will probably find that the perfect female form was that of the great painters in the renaissance era!

Back to the behavior of children toward each other.  I think their awareness of how another looks, beautiful or ugly, is likely set by the entertainment industry which presents to us what people “should” look like.  It is amazing how much alike most “beauties” are!  If you have a need to find a particular thin, long-haired blonde beauty who is at South Padre Island, good lock finding her.   Bikini clad, they look alike.  Not many homely, or even not pretty,  are seen in that locale.

(Submitted to the Streams of Consciousness challenge)

#SoSC

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HOW DARE YOU!

car

A new Mercedes?

I dare not dream of Yugo!.

And you? Mercedes!

https://ronovanwrites.wordpress.com/2016/11/21/ronovanwrites-weekly-haiku-poetry-prompt-challenge-124-dreamdare/

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BLOGGERS’ THANKSGIVING

computer-user

My Blogging Friends, we have some things in common to be thankful for:

  • The ability to read
  • The ability to spell and write coherent sentences
  • Discretionary funds which allow the equipment necessary for social media
  • Physical strength, health, and mobility
  • The drive and unction which made us enter this cyber world
  • Enough confidence to put our “selves” out for critique and evaluation

Now for some thanks from me to you.  With age comes a dwindling of opportunities to socialize, to educate, to learn, to have fun, to argue, to influence, to inspire.  My experience in Blogging has opened a new world to me.  I thank you.

 Have a wonderful Thanksgiving Holiday.

 

 

 

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A SINGING THANKSGIVING

brumley

Come on, Everbody.  Let’s go have Thanksgiving,” called Mandy standing at the top of the stairs after the meal was completed and dishes “sort of” taken care of.  She was about four years old: I have no idea why she thought our singing was what “Thanksgiving” was.  Could she have remembered from the year before?  But that statement does show the importance singing was in our holiday times.  Other anxious participants were happy to follow her direction.

Mother’s basement was pleasant and ideally fitted for family gatherings. There sat the piano along with a guitar or two,  generally an accordion and a trumpet.  Clyde played the guitar; Carl the guitar or trumpet; LaVada, Verna, Vicky, Karen rotated piano playing.

We sang a variety of songs but for pure fun and heart-touching words, nothing could beat the Albert Brumley style and words.  “This World is not My Home,”  “It’s an Unfriendly World to Me.”  “I’ll Fly Away,”  “He Set Me Free,” “I’d Rather Be an Old Time Christian,” “I’ll Walk in the New Jerusalem Way.”  “I’m Bound for That City,” and “I’ll Meet You in the Morning.” Songs of dedication, victory, and heaven.

June Carter Cash wrote “There is Going to be a Meeting in the Air…..in the sweet, sweet bye and bye…going to meet you, meet you over there…in our home beyond the sky.  Such singing you will hear…”

Well June Carter Cash, Albert Brumley, Amy Rodgers Venter – we are coming.  Get the songbooks ready for us to have Thanksgiving – per Mandy’s style!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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